I have added a co-writer/beta for this fanfic. x]
Meet Mister Draco L. Malfoy - /dragonofbadfaith
:D We are currently writing this as a storyline for Myspace role play and as we get further, this fic will be uploaded.
Be patient loves as we are working diligently together to make this fic the best it can absolutely be.
So here you are, Dracos debut:
-Trixster
It was hardly an ideal situation; having Lucius in prison but it was one which Draco had learned to accept. Unfortunately, it was not something Narcissa had learned to accept and she was most distraught, writing daily owls to Azkaban, begging for her husband's release. All of these letters had been returned, each without having been read. Draco – as well as many others – had told her on numerous occasions that it would be okay, that the Dark Lord would have Azkaban in his grips in mere weeks and that, without a doubt, Lucius would be home and safe by the time the Hogwarts Express left on September the first. But no matter how much consolidation Narcissa seemed to get, nothing calmed her although Avery had done a good job with three bottles of firewhiskey and a very strong cigarette. Each day she fussed for hours on how 'her Lucius' had been made scapegoat once again – Draco had wanted to point out that, last time, his father had gotten away from his charges Scot-free making this the first time he had been the proverbial scapegoat but he thought better of it. His mother was manic as it was, he did not need to anger her – and, each day, she would panic at least seven or eight times an hour that Draco too would be carted off to Azkaban. He had once joked that perhaps they could request a family cell but this had left him with a scorching mark on his chest and a hole in his favorite sweater.
But her manic days were much better than the other times; days where she simply refused to leave her bedroom claiming that there was no need now her love was gone. During these days, there was absolutely nothing worth doing other than leaving her to it. And that was exactly what Draco had done on that particular day in the middle of June.
He had busied himself by reading one of his father's books in the library; a particularly well thumbed copy of a book detailing just how important dragons were to potion making, written by Draco's grandfather. Many said that Draco had been named after the star but he knew the truth: his father was absolutely insane and loved dragons so much that he had been called the Latin name for the beast. The book was, at best, mediocre but it had captivated his interest and prevented him from thinking about his mother, alone and depressed in her bedroom. He had just moved to turn the page, however, when the library door opened, his mother standing in the doorway wearing a thick travelling cloak, muggle trousers and what looked like negligee. "I think that, perhaps…" she sniffed loudly and dabbed at her eyes with a crisp, white handkerchief adorned with 'LM'. "Draco, you know your father and I love you…"
Draco closed the book. Any conversation which had began with 'You know your father and I love you' had always ended badly. The first one he could remember was when his mother had taken his toy broomstick away from him when he was five years old after he had dragged a stray cat, by the tail, the whole way home, its face scuffing along the ground while he hovered along, removing the poor feline of any life. The second conversation starting with that line had resulted in him agreeing that, this summer, he was going to be stupid enough to land himself with a dirty great dark mark on his left forearm. But, nevertheless, he listened. "I don't think that while your father is in prison that it's…normal for you to be here," she began and, while Draco wanted to tell her that their family could hardly put claim to being normal, he remained silent. "This is why I've written to your Aunt Bellatrix." Draco's eyebrow rose. "You'll be going…going…" And before she could finish her sentence, the witch broke down into tears.
"Going where, mother?" Draco asked, but he needn't have bothered. Part of him had seen it coming, really, ever since he had gotten home from Hogwarts. And so he had no resistance to his mother's request. In fact, when the witch finally broke down, clutching at her cloak and sobbing 'Come home, Lucius' he simply stepped past her, gathered his things – as well as a few things that weren't his, merely because they caught his interest – and left for his aunt's house without so much as a goodbye. He hadn't expected a particularly grand welcome; Bellatrix and her husband had no children and had, indeed, expressed no interest in having any.